


Sweet is the Taste of Torment

by wickedblackbird



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:46:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedblackbird/pseuds/wickedblackbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You're going to have to try harder than that,' he said, vowels wet and blood spraying into his tormenter's face on every 't'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet is the Taste of Torment

Loki was laughing with blood in his teeth.

'You're going to have to try harder than that,' he said, vowels wet and blood spraying into his tormenter's face on every 't'.

Another skewer was slid with surgical precision between his ribs. His laughter caught for just a moment before gushing out with greater fury.

'As though your insignificant needles will do more than try my patience,' he hissed. 'I have seen many more violences than that which you are capable of visiting upon me. You will face the wrath of a god when you tire of this foolishness.'

And he knew it to be true. This current moment was but another in a long list of punishments they had tried over the centuries. As though they thought that each successive one would succeed where the last had failed. Loki had once given birth to an eight-leggedhorse - could still remember the tearing, wrenching, awful pain, the rush of blood, the feeling of another being ripping its way out of his body and then turning to him for sustenance - what could they possibly do to him after that?

Loki's mind wandered as they tightened the chains connected to the hooks sunk into his hands and elbows. He could feel the taut stretch down through his shoulders as it drew him up, the separation in his ribs that allowed easier access to the soft, vulnerable parts underneath. Each sensation was subconsciously categorized and filed away for if he should ever need the knowledge of the body's failings.

His own experiences had often provided him inspiration in the past. And Loki was a very skilled torturer.

He was imagining pulling off his captor's fingers - one at a time, joint by joint so that each dislocating crack was predecessor to wrenching it off - when the figure above him smacked him sharply across the face. Loki looked up into his jailer's eyes - so very blue, those eyes, he would enjoy popping them free of their sockets - and grinned, blood dripping down over his lips.

'My turn,' he said, and yanked his hands free.


End file.
